


Helpless

by liketolaugh



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Mild Gore, That Month, The Cage, When Sebastian Met Ciel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-02
Updated: 2013-02-02
Packaged: 2017-11-27 22:48:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/667335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketolaugh/pseuds/liketolaugh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I was helpless... Just a child." Ciel hated being helpless, but during That Month, he was nothing but.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helpless

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I'm sorry I randomly went away after posting some things. I usually just use my FF.net account (under the same name) and stuff takes a while to end up here. Anyway, so here's this, and people on FF really liked it, so I hope you do too, yeah?

"Mama!" Ciel screamed, throwing open another door, wide-eyed with fright. "Daddy!" He kept running, ignoring the wheezing sound he could hear coming from his lungs even over the roar of the flames.

He reached the end of the hallway and, despite the raging flames that blazed his skin, making him feel like he was burning alive without even touching him, threw open that door, too. His blue eyes widened as he took in the sight; his father was stretched out on the ground, holding his mother close, clothing being consumed by the hungry flames. "DADDY! MAMA!"

Tears spilled out of his eyes, he couldn’t move, and the scent, through the smoke, burned his nostrils, the scent of burning flesh, as the flames crisped the clothes and started to eat through the flesh like acid, reducing it to ash, and through the burning smoke Ciel could make out his mother's and father's flesh fusing together, the bodies melting into each other. He screamed.

He turned, trying to run, but he tripped and fell and then he was coughing, he couldn't get enough air. He tried to squint through the smoke, gasping for air that wouldn’t come, but he could only make out shadows of people before his vision faded to black and he fell unconscious.

Ciel stared up at the man who had bought him, anger and fear warring in him. He flinched back as the cage was opened, but the man held out his hand and looked so kind and welcoming.

He scurried further back, glaring at him angrily, because he'd learned a long time ago that humans were filthy, lying creatures and when they looked kind – those were the people most likely to hurt you the worst. The man's smile fell and he reached out, taking hold of Ciel's arm with a bruising grip and forcibly pulling him out. "Now let's just give you the mark of the noble beast. It suits you, after all." He chuckled as he dragged Ciel to another room and then held him to the ground, ignoring the terrified jerking of Ciel's limbs as he was chained to the floor and pinned by more people.

The man left, returning with a red-hot brand. Yes, Ciel recognized it. He recognized it easily. The man chuckled. "Well, aren't you a cute one? Your eyes so wide and blue, small wonder that your price was so high." Ciel could only stare fearfully as the red hot metal drew nearer to him and he was turned on his side, unable to see the iron brand as it drew closer. It was so close to him, he trembled as it drew nearer, he could feel the heat radiating off of it oh-so-close, and he abandoned his struggles for fear of touching it.

Then it pressed firmly onto his back and he screamed as it  _burned_. It burned like nothing he had ever felt before, worse than the fire in the manor, a burn far closer to the fires of hell as he screamed.

That first day, Ciel didn't understand, he hissed at the people who opened the door of his cage and reached in to drag him out roughly. He snapped at them, yelled at them, and when they laid him, prone, on the table, he just struggled harder. They took the knife to him and he screamed.

They slashed him open, too shallow to kill him, simply drawing blood, carving the knife across his body, scarring him, leaving their marks on his flesh forever. They beat him, too – with their feet and fists, hitting him, tearing open his wounds even further, making him cry out, scream, and finally, beg for mercy that wouldn't come, mercy that was not to be found anywhere in this godforsaken living hell.

When they finally threw him back into his cage, he cried. He was dirty, scared, hurt, and he wanted to go home, but there was no home, because it had burned, his Mama and Daddy with it.

But him, he would get out someday. He was Ciel Phantomhive, and he did not give up.

The next day, he wasn't taken away. His cuts burned, his bruises ached, and he hurt all over, every position hurt more than the last. He heard a creak from one of the other cages and he turned his head, frowning.

One of the girls in a different cage was being taken out, and the sight of her frightened him. She wasn’t trembling or screaming; she wasn’t even resisting. Her expression was blank, she didn’t seem to register what was going on around her, blindly walking with her captors.

Unlike him, she wasn't taken to the table. Instead, she was taken to another cage, one he'd noticed the previous day. A cage with a very skinny lion snarling within it, pacing restlessly.

The lifeless girl they had chosen was led to the cage, still obediently, blankly, following along. The lion snarled and threw itself at the bars, but couldn't get more than a single paw through despite its too-lean form. Already, Ciel could hear whimpers and crying coming from some of the other cages, and he didn't understand. What was going on? And why wasn’t she doing anything?

The cage door was opened, just a crack, and the girl screamed, showing the first sign of life he had seen from her, as she was shoved in, the door shut tight behind her. The lion lunged and scarlet blood splattered the ground.

She lasted for mere seconds, and Ciel screamed, terrified, as the lion, minutes later, walked away with a bloody muzzle to curl in the corner of its cage.

And so the days went on. Some days, Ciel was beaten, and would cry in his cage and scream and vow revenge to himself, scared, hurt, and most of all, enraged, because this, this would not stand!

Other days, he would only sit by and listen as another was taken away into a room not far away at all, could do nothing but listen to the screams. Or he would watch as one of the children was led to their deaths, falling or being ripped to pieces or stabbed, right in the middle of the room where they would all watch and the masked people would laugh and cackle at their fear, their screams.

But slowly, ever so slowly, the fear and the anger faded away, becoming duller as the days went by, as he lost hope and realized that he was just a child here. He couldn't do anything. Helpless.

Completely helpless.

He could do nothing.

The life faded from his eyes.

Ciel sat, still in his cage, beaten and broken, staring listlessly into space.  _Why? Daddy… Mama… why? Why was there no one? Why did no one help us?_

Distantly, he heard activity, but he didn't care anymore. He didn’t hear the words spoken, the excited tones, the anxiety. He didn't, couldn't care whether it was him or another being beaten today, being hurt, him or another that would die today. It didn’t matter anymore. There was no point now. In here, in the cage, he had no control, no power. They would do what they wanted – to him, to the people he saw – and he could do nothing, and so what point was there offering resistance? If they wanted to beat him, there was no way to stop it or soften the blows. If they wanted to kill him, well, what did it matter?

His cage door creaked and it opened and he glanced up to see one of the masked men beaming at him. "Aren't we going to have a splendid gathering tonight?" he gloated. Ciel looked back down. It was always a ‘splendid gathering’. It would hurt, of course, but then, everything hurt anyway. Besides, it was not as if he could make a difference.

He felt himself be dragged to his feet and forced to walk, but he just didn't care anymore. If there wasn't pain today, there would be pain tomorrow. There was nothing he could do to stop it. And no one else would.  _No one comes to our rescue._

He was laid out on the table, slick with blood before they even laid a finger (or more accurately, a blade) on him. Despite his former listlessness, he still felt his eyes widen and a twinge of… something… thrill through him as above, a blade was raised. A ceremonial blade, sharp and decorated and made for killing. Not hurting. Killing.

_Death._

The word echoed through his mind and he wondered. Would it hurt? Everything hurt, so he supposed it wouldn't matter. All that mattered was that he escaped. Escaped and killed the people who did this, the people who took him, used him, and then threw him away like a broken toy.

That was all he cared about.

He didn't care who. He didn't care how. He was Ciel Phantomhive, and he was  _not a broken toy_!

_There is no God._

The knife started to rush toward him.

_So someone! Anyone! SAVE ME!_

The knife was plunged into him and he choked on blood as it rushed up and out of his stomach and lungs, splashing out of his mouth. The apathy was burned out of his veins by the hate boiling his blood, searing, blazing, coursing through his small form like burning hellfire.

_Kill kill kill kill KILL!_

Then a figure, made from and shrouded in black mist (smoke), appeared as if from nowhere.

"I-it really showed up!" one of the masked women gasped.

The eyes, the burning, blood red eyes, the only distinct feature the mist had, glanced one way.  _No,_  it whispered, for the figure could not be anything but an it.

"Grant me eternal life and wealth!" another man cried out, looking positively ecstatic.

 _No,_  the figure whispered. Its eyes fell on Ciel.  _Oh._

Ciel stared up at it, eyes wide with fear and burning with anger, simmering with hate.

_Well, aren't you a very small master._

The room dissolved and the table disappeared from beneath Ciel, replaced by a red cloth covering his unclothed body, feathers floating, falling, through the air, and the mist gained a slightly more defined form, that of a large bird – a crow, or a raven.

 _Think carefully_ , it told him.  _Should you reject the faith even this once, the gates of paradise will forever be out of your reach._

"Do you think," Ciel whispered. "that one who is among the faithful, would ever go so far as to summon someone like you?"

The voice chuckled.  _You have summoned me. This fact will not change for all eternity. That which has been lost can never return. I'll ask but once more. You can form the contract, or leave your soul unsullied by the likes of a demon. Now: Choose._

Ciel knew what he wanted, what he needed to do. This place where he had been taken would _burn_ like his manor had, it would be destroyed, and its people would rue the day they made an enemy of Ciel Phantomhive! They would _die!_

"I want," Ciel muttered. "Power. The power to take revenge on the ones that did this to us!" He glared fiercely at the demon, for what else could it be? "Demon! I'll make a contract with you!"

It chuckled again.  _So you're abandoning the light for the path to hell._ _Fine. Well then, let us mark our bodies with the contract seal. The more visible the seal, the greater the strength of the contract. So, where do you wish-_

Ciel interrupted him. "Anywhere! I want… I want power stronger than anyone else's!"

Another chuckle.  _You are quite greedy, despite your small body. Well then._  He reached for Ciel's head, taking it in a barely-formed hand of mist that nonetheless had a grip of steel.  _I shall put the seal on that large eye of yours, filled with despair._  The hand covered his eye and then a burn, this one so much worse than the brand, started in on his eye, marking it, scorching his soul, searing it, branding it with the mark of the demon.

Once again, Ciel screamed.

Ciel stood beside the demon, watching apathetically as the mansion he'd been held in burned. Blood streamed from his now contracted eye.

"Demon."

The demon looked at him, ever-present smirk making his eyes dance with amusement.

"What is your name?"

"My name? You may call me whatever you wish, master."

Ciel looked at him, thinking for a moment. "Sebastian."

"In that case, master, my name is Sebastian."

He looked up at the demon, which had taken on the form of a tall man with black hair and red-brown eyes. He himself may be just a child, but with a demon by his side, he would become more. He would live up to his name, be a true Phantomhive.

He would not be rendered helpless. Not again.

Never again.


End file.
